


TGE Cracklets

by Island_of_Reil



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Black Sails Fusion, Cannibalism (sort of), Crying, Deliberate Badfic, Filk, Fine Arts, Gen, Horses, M/M, Out of Character, Sad, Whipping, dirty books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-05 03:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Island_of_Reil/pseuds/Island_of_Reil
Summary: Along the lines of”SnK Cracklets,”here are some silly TGE things I’ve written mainly for the “100 Words” threads on fail_fandomanon. Unfinished because I hope to add to it more as time goes on. At this writing only ch. 1 is explicit, while ch. 5 is "mature." No horses are whipped in this series.





	1. Sad Buttsex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original.](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/234790.html?thread=1305687334#cmt1305687334)

"Why art crying, Csevet?" Maia asked while he was balls-deep in his secretary.

Csevet sniffled and said, "Because I am remembering my traumatic rapey courier days, as well as my poverty-stricken childhood in which I ate naught but dirt for three months straight. Also, hast not used enough Barizheise Love Oil tonight and mine arse hurts. But, soundest like art crying too?"

"Yes, I am remembering Cousin Setheris drunkenly beating the shit out of me," Maia sobbed.

Then they both came, and they cried in each other's arms until dawn, when the servants came in to change the tear- and cum-soaked sheets.


	2. Badfic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin. [Original.](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/249601.html?thread=1397839361#cmt1397839361)

“Forgive me,” Eshevis sobbed, on his knees before Csevet. “I treated thee so wrongly when wert a young boy. Please forgive me?”

“Of course,” Csevet smiled, blushing prettily and his earrings jangling as he straddled Eshevis and threw his arms around him. “Redemption arcs are very moral, and thou art very handsome and rich and hast a big cock. Wilt dress me in sharadansho silk, with parasols and pretty shoes and all?”

“I swear, I will,” Eshevis whispered, tears of joy and relief streaming down his chiseled face from his midnight orbs. In the plural he added, “For the rest of our lives.”


	3. Whipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original.](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/274404.html?thread=1544705764#cmt1544705764)

“Dachensol,” Thunet asked, “you will teach us the proper way to prepare a dessert topping, will you not?”

“Of course,” Dachensol Ebremis chuckled avuncularly as he took down the whisk from its peg on the wall. “His Serenity deserves only the very best garnish on his desserts. Therefore, before the cream sits out too long, you must whip it.”

“Whip it,” Thunet repeated in fascination as he took the whisk from his mentor’s hand and began to apply it vigorously to the metal bowl-ful of cream.

“Yes, Thunet,” the dachensol said. “Whip it into shape.”

“Whip it!” Thunet echoed as the whisk rattled within the bowl.

“That’s it, boy!” Ebremis exclaimed. “We say, whip it. Whip it good!”


	4. Our Lovely Horse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Original,](http://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/262178.html?thread=1472513058#cmt1472513058) written in response to [a serious (and very sweet) ficlet](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/262178.html?thread=1471806754#cmt1471806754) in which Maia takes pleasure in grooming Velvet, A Horse, himself. If you don't recognize the song, [go here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzYzVMcgWhg) (safe for work).

_Our lovely horse, running through the field  
Where art thou going, with thy fetlocks blowing in the wind?_

_We want to shower thee with sugar lumps, and ride thee over Setheris  
Polish thy hooves every single day, and bring thee to the .... um ... horse carers?_

_Our lovely horse, art a pony no more  
Running around with a Zhas on thy back, like an airship in the night…_


	5. Blue-Backed Novel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a ["100 words of porn parody" thread](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/297499.html?thread=1687205659#cmt1687205659) and expanded here slightly. They don't have movies yet in the Ethuveraz so I made do with earlier technology.

_“Oh, my Zhas, I would do anything for you,” Pimara said huskily, kneeling before the man he adored more than anyone, more than anything, else in the world._

_The handsome young Ethuverid Zhas leaned down to lift his burly soldier-nohecharis’s chin with one long-nailed, elegant hand. “Wouldst truly?” When Pimara nodded his assent, the emperor said, “Then take us. Now. We have pined for thy mighty sword of manflesh for many a month now.”_

_He stood and undid his elegant, tight silk trousers in a trice, as if he had not been long accustomed to the expert touch of his edocharei. Soon he was kneeling on the Ivory Throne and presenting Pimara with a pair of moons that would have made Ulis weep, and between them winked Cstheio’s pinkest star…_

Thanking Salezheio for many years’ practice at keeping a perfectly straight face, Csevet snapped the blue-backed novel shut. “You say you found this in the lavatory three doors down from the Rose Room?”

“Er, yes, Mer Aisava,” Cora said, his face bright red and his ears drooping. “We thought maybe you ... should be aware of it. And that you would know what should be done with it.”

“We will put it in a safe and concealed spot, in case anyone makes inquiries,” Csevet said blandly, mentally reviewing the best times to catch Cala Athmaza alone. It would be, he thought, far less awkward than returning the book directly to Lieutenant Beshelar. “Thank you, Cora, for bringing this to our attention.”


	6. Elves Who Know That Dwarf Babies Taste Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/302346.html?thread=1720592138#cmt1720592138). [Inspiration](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/302346.html?thread=1719476234#cmt1719476234).

“I say, Eshevis, thy cook has outdone himself tonight,” Ubezhar said with his mouth half full. “What is it?”

Tethimar grinned. “Hast ever heard of ‘dwarves,’ Odris?”

“Dwarves?” Ubezhar frowned around the mouthful of savory pie before swallowing it. “Thou meanst, the small men with the small ears and the large beards who live in Moriâzhan?”

“Indeed I do mean them,” Tethimar said.

“So... is this pie made with some sort of beast that they farm, then?” Solichel asked from the other side of the dining room table.

“Well... not precisely,” Tethimar replied.

It would take the servants days to get the odor of Solichel’s vomit out of the sharadansho tablecloth. However, Tethimar deemed the expressions on both Solichel’s and Ubezhar’s faces to be entirely worth the inconvenience. And that was in addition to the fact that, while Solichel was off in the lavatory continuing to be sick, Ubezhar quietly asked a servant for seconds.


	7. The Dorms for Couriers: They’re A-OK!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The courier dormitories are a friendly, warm environment that might make thee want to get up and sing and dance and swing thine arms.

Young elf, there's no need to feel down  
We said, young elf, pick thyself off the ground  
We said, young elf, giving blowjobs in town  
There's no need to be unhappy

Young elf, there's a place thou canst go  
We said, young elf, when art short on thy dough  
Get a job there, and thou also wilt find  
Many ways to have a good time

_[bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp]_

The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK!  
The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK!  
Full of sweaty young men  
Faces pretty as flowers  
They go riding for hours and hours

The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
They have everything that an elf might enjoy  
Thou canst hang out with all the boys

Young elf, art thou listening to us?  
We said, young elf, thou shouldst do what thou must,  
We said, young elf, our advice thou canst trust,  
But thou oughtst to know this one thing

Young elf, we will tell thee a fact,  
We said, young elf, don't earn coin on thy back,  
We said, young elf, if thou hast thee the knack,  
Thou canst earn a wage and be happy...

_[bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp]_

The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
Full of sweaty young men  
Faces pretty as flowers  
They go riding for hours and hours

The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
Thou canst take a long bath, thou canst have a good meal  
Thou canst cop a fantastic feel

Young elf, we were once in thy boots  
We said, young elf, oh, our pain was acute  
We felt no elf cared if we were alive  
We felt the whole world was so tight

That's when someone came up to us and said,  
He said, “Young elf, art thou needing a bed?  
Hasten thee to the dormitory  
They can take thee in immediately”

The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
The dorms for couriers: They’re A-OK,  
They have everything that an elf might enjoy  
Thou canst hang out with all the boys…


	8. Fruit, Tits, and Plants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s never a dull moment on the Versheleen Islands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wrmfX8QtBfA), which is SFW except for tits in a painting and of course the word "tits."

The voice, pure Cethoreise backwoods, rang out through the busy main square of Vershelo: “Fruit… fruit. Tits … tits. Plant … plant. It’s the fuckin’ same!”

The beaux-arts merchant sighed; his ears remained up, but the set of them suggested fatigue and resignation. “Yes, Captain,” he said in a voice well polished by both the Untheileneise Court and the University of Ashedro. “We are perfectly sure the two paintings seem alike to you. However, as we explained earlier, the one on the left is the work of Adrena Hanemar. Look how much more masterfully the subject is rendered. The one on the right, however, is an abomination unto the gods. To suggest that the value of one has any bearing on that of the other simply strains the very bounds of reason.”

The captain, a ruddy-faced man who looked considerably older than his probable forty-odd years, screwed up his face in bewilderment, and his heavily beringed ears flattened beneath his hat. Once more, he pointed back and forth between the two paintings: “Fruit — fruit! Tits — tits! Plant — plant!”

On the second-floor balcony across the street, on a rough wooden bench, sat two trembling figures with right hands clapped over their mouths and one of them clutching a little bottle in her left. Once the exasperated sea captain had stridden away, leaving the merchant to roll his eyes and shake his head, the pair threw their own heads back and roared.

“Sweet Ashevezhko,” Shaleän Sevraseched finally wheezed, passing the strong tavern sorcho to her first mate. “I don’t know about thee, Hethano, but I love this town.”


End file.
